The Quidditch Pitch
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: A lot of things happened on the pitch, both on and off the ground. /for the Setting Boot Camp/
1. The Youngest Seeker in the Air

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 003 – petite.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 1: The Youngest Seeker in the Air**

The Seeker was always a tiny little thing, but Oliver Wood had to say that Harry Potter was probably the puniest yet. It was no insult to his skills, but one could not deny that Harry was not only a first-year in a team of upperclassmen, but he was small as far as the typical first-year went.

On the large Quidditch pitch during that first year, that was nothing but a blessing in disguise. People underestimated him, the celebrity with the classiest broom on the market but too young and inexperienced to have any real talent. Couple that with the popular presumption that fame earned him special treatment, and Harry was factored in as the least-threatening aspect of the game –

– except for the cursed broom of course. Although the faux finish, involving him almost swallowing the Snitch while attempting to land, caused Hufflepuff's Captain to focus more on the Gryffindor Beaters than the little golden ball. So only Gryffindor, who knew of Harry's true talent at the game, were unsurprised when less than five minutes in, the youngest Seeker to play for a House Team in a century snatched the Snitch hovering about Snape's ear.

But in practise, when the pitch was booked and only the Gryffindor team flew in their glory of red and gold, he was like a little Snitch himself, dancing with the Chasers who had to react on an instant when he came tearing past, dodging the Bludgers fired at him by the Weasley twins and catching every golden or white ball tossed into the starry night by their Captain.

He may have been younger, smaller, and more inexperienced, but Gryffindor at least was wise enough not to think that age and size meant everything. And their battles in the air proved it.


	2. Some Stubble for a Pitch

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 031 – bare feet.

Just a note on the first line. I'm well aware that "runned" is not a word, but poetry gives certain licences that are lacking in prose, and one of those is made-up words. It's more a phonetic thing than anything else, "runned" sounds better than "ran" in the present circumstances.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 1: Some Stubble for a Pitch**

Runned ragged,  
its' skin was roughed  
but smooth and bare:

Beaten by bludgers  
bouncing on the green turf  
before taking to the air again  
or a dropped Quaffle  
or brooms skidding  
on a blinding patch before  
angling up  
or straightening like a reed-stalk  
snapping back

But then it,  
overnight,  
sprouted some stubble  
and it was rather uncomfortable  
indeed, for  
it could no longer see  
the sky and the players  
above it's field

But rather bear the weight,  
not of victory or defeat,  
but bare feet  
and of walls growing,  
defining it –

Brainwashing it.


	3. Waiting for Practice to End on a Date

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 032 – nail lacquer.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 2: Waiting for Practice to End on a Date**

Lavender wasn't a particular fan of Quidditch, but hen one's boyfriend was a member of the team, there was no avoiding the pitch. During the Inter-House competitions, she could at least cheer loudly for both Ron and the Gryffindor team as a whole, but during practices where all they did were repetitive drills her presence meant little at all.

Parvati refused to come with her, so the only company she had were her magazines and her make-up kit – and the magically warming scarf from her parents on the extra-chilly nights. During those dull hours she would paint her nails a multitude of colours, looking every now and then at the figure of Ron before the goals. His figure was burly and strong, but even she couldn't watch him indefinitely while all he did was trade Quaffles with his little sister.

No, she wasn't jealous of Ginny Weasley, who was spending more time with Ron than Lavender herself with the approach of the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. She wasn't jealous of Hermione Granger either, who dared to call herself Ron's friend while skirting the most recent practices purely for _her_ presence. Not that she would have tolerated the girl's insensitivity if it came to light; the gripes against Bunny and their Divination Professors (and the subject as a whole, really) still stung.

Sadly, the stands she sat in were the perfect place to muse about such things. Painting her nails took little time at all, and even a drying charm would not make them ready to paint again in minutes. The atmosphere was so very different between the biweekly practices and the seasoned matches, and she wished there was a crowd around her so their cries and cheers could reach the pitch without irritation.

If she was a Quidditch fan, things would probably have been very different.


	4. Reed Stalks that Bend and Live

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 015 – porch swing.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 2: Reed Stalks that Bend and Live**

The pendulum swung forth.

Like a swing  
it: a ground created by magic  
from the founder's time  
and maintained  
long after, creaked  
with the slightest tinge of rust

For every skid,  
every furious stomp,  
every creature that fled  
before giant's hold –

Every tear that fell,  
every rain, hail, sun dew,  
harsh wind or light  
that shone upon its form –

And it changed,  
arranged itself:  
stiffened,  
made little pot holes

To avoid smashing  
into the back brick wall

And shattering  
into unrepairable pieces.


	5. Forbidden Lovers in a Secret Niche

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 017 – loverboy.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 3: Forbidden Lovers in a Secret Niche**

The pitch, at night, was a time where the entire expanse of the sky could be seen: stars twinkling merrily as little points on a map too large to read. Only the beasts in the forest far off sung, and the castle barely stirred as Prefects and the occasional teacher wandered their halls.

Hiding behind a suit of armour was an easy way to get caught, but the lone wide pitch with barely an obstacle to crouch behind was the perfect place for a private moment. Disillusioned, no-one peering out their window at an ill hour would see them, and alone for miles no-one would hear a word they uttered. It was tried, and fail-safe, and even Filch locking the main door was not a huge hindrance to their midnight excursions: they were a witch and a wizard after all, and Filch, a mere squib, could not latch a lock strongly enough to stop them.

It was funny how no Headmaster had enchanted it, but it made things easier for them. For outside, in the night on the Quidditch Pitch, there was no-one to bear witness to the forbidden relationship but they themselves, and they could share a moment of contentment together.


	6. The Dementor's Chill Reached the Pitch T

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 028 – keep you warm at night.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 3: The Dementor's Chill Reached the Pitch Too**

The Dementor's chill  
reached to its very roots

And it could not begrudge  
the ability to fear  
or fall, or feel pain

But all of them were iced  
to the very thread-bare bone

And it envied the blanket  
that would warm them  
that night.


	7. Working off Some Steam

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 027 – crooked smile.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 4: Working off Some Steam**

Sirius Black jabbed the toes of his dragon-hide boots into the moist dirt of the Quidditch Pitch. There were no flyers in the sky – Quidditch season was well and truly over with Slytherin creaming Ravenclaw for the trophy during the last match – but it was still a peaceful place.

He wished he had brought his broom though. And his bat and a practise Bludger. He'd feel a lot better knocking those heavy balls around. He could go get it, if he was in any mood to traverse across the pitch and unlock the broom shed – though, in his current state, he was more likely to use a blasting hex instead.

Maybe he could summon it instead…

He pulled the wand from his holster and levelled it in the general direction of the shed. 'Accio Broom!'

The sound of wood splintering answered, and he spared himself a wince as the latest model broom on the market came to him, carrying a few flakes of broken door with it.

There was a chuckle. 'What's got your boxers in a bunch?'

Sirius gave a crooked smile in return. 'My family,' he muttered.

'Ah.' James nodded knowingly. 'I suppose they would make you want to break down doors. Though the broom shed one?'

'An accident.'

'Right.' James didn't comment, instead holding out his own broom. 'How about a race? Not as good as hitting Bludgers in your book probably, but it's still good for letting some steam.'

Sirius had to agree with that logic, and within moments the two were blurs around the pitch. And when they were both frozen by the Spring air, a tame "Reparo" restored the broom shed's door to its original state, and another spell set the scuffs in the pitch right too.

'So, what had you so bothered anyway?'

'You just had to remind me, didn't you?'


	8. Warming Fingers in a Small Fire

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 020 – hearth.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 4: Warming Fingers in a Small Fire**

There was a little bluebell  
of heat  
just above.

It stretched its fingers out,  
flexing them,  
enjoying the warmth  
that travelled through

Like the rugs  
spread before a fireplace  
always could.

Its chance –  
for it was an outdoor pitch,  
not a closet room –  
was slim

But it savoured it  
nonetheless.


	9. Lilies Can Fly Too

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 022 – lilies.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 5: Lilies Can Fly Too**

'I am not getting on that – that thing!'

Sirius laughed, clasping his best friend on the back. 'You might want to give up Prongs,' he said. 'I don't think Lily here is going to indulge you for anything.'

Knowing what was at stake, James turned on the charm. 'Please,' he pleaded, eyes growing wide and watery. It was a look that got him out of trouble many a time, mainly with Slughorn, but got him into twice as much strife with McGonagall.

Sadly, it didn't work well with Lily either.

'Don't you even try that James Potter! I said I'm not riding a broomstick and I won't!'

Even Remus couldn't control his laughter.

'I could use a sticking charm –' James started, before winding up on the receiving end of one of the red-head's famous glares.

'I believe _I_ am better at charms,' she hissed, leaving the second part of the statement unsaid.

'She got you there,' Sirius chortled.

'You shut it, Black, unless you want your behind stuck to that broom instead!'

Sirius fell quiet immediately.

'It'll only be a quick ride,' James wheedled. 'Unless you're afraid?'

'I'm not afraid.' But Lily's blush, as bright as her hair, spoke otherwise. 'I just prefer all my feet on the –' She stopped talking immediately as the look on James' face registered. 'Hold –'

She spoke too late, as a casual flick from the other's wand had her hoisted her into the air by her ankles. The four boys present were rather shocked, while the two girls were trying unsuccessfully to stifle their laughter.

'James Potter!' Lily yelled, her face flushing even more vivaciously. 'Let me down this instant.'

But James only did so when he was in a position to hoist her onto the back of his broom, after which his love-interest had no choice but to fly with him.

And it was only after the broom touched down that Lily realised she could have said the counter-spell herself. But she had to admit James had been extra-careful with her in the backseat…and it had been rather pleasant.

'We'll turn you into a chaser any day.'

'No thanks,' was Lily's dry response. 'Once was enough.'

And James was happy with that, because not only had he shared something he enjoyed with her, but he had won the bet against Sirius as well.


	10. Waiting for Cake and Receiving a Corpse

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 018 – You lied to me.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 5: Waiting for Cake and Receiving a Corpse Instead**

It was waiting for a shower  
of celebratory sparks  
and stamping feet  
in a closing dusk.

It followed  
carefully  
every line, every tremor,  
waiting,  
waiting

And it was surprised  
and unpleased  
when the centre  
vanished without a trace  
leaving a dark  
stain behind

For there would not be  
a celebration, but  
a mourning  
instead

And with the  
pressure  
upon it, it could not even  
shudder  
its displeasure.


	11. Albus' First Flying Lesson

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 044 – I would do it for you.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 6: Albus' First Flying Lesson**

Rosie was bouncing up and down beside him, and Albus couldn't understand why.

'Isn't it great,' she trilled. 'Finally, our first flying lesson. I can't believe Mum wouldn't let us try out Aunt Ginny's racing broom – not that the school brooms are in its league; the handle –'

Without pausing for breath, she rattled out a multitude of facts that would take Albus weeks of diligence to memorise but his cousin, with her photographic memory, recalled with ease. Not that he wanted those facts either; sure, his mother had been a professional Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and his father the best Seeker Hogwarts had ever seen (and might have gone into professional play as well if he hadn't chosen to be an Auror instead), but that didn't mean he had to enjoy flying. He rather thought he had managed to inherit his grandmother's head for heights along with her eyes.

Not that he could convince Rosie, excited now that she was about to get on a proper broom – as her mother had been very stringent with the rules and wouldn't allow the kids on brooms that went more than five feet above ground until they had their flying lessons at Hogwarts – for the first time.

'Promise you and I can go flying later when Dad sends me a broom?'

Albus could have said no. He should have said no, but Rosie's appeals always managed to win him over, so all he could reply was an: 'All right Rosie.'

She beamed and kissed him on the cheek, much to the sniggering of the other Gryffindors. The red-head flicked her hair in their direction. Though Albus found himself regretting his promise when the class started and he was heading on to his woebegone broom for dear life.

At least Rosie was sympathetic to his fear of heights and stayed close to the ground with him as they looped around the pitch afterwards.


	12. Provider of Sanctuary

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 042 – sanctuary.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 6: Provider of Sanctuary**

Though it had no curtains  
to draw upon the air  
nor muffler  
to hide the sounds  
of whispers  
upon the breeze

But it gave  
its sanctuary  
all the same,  
to those that let space  
and the whistling wind  
be its invisibility cloak

And the grass  
a safe-haven  
upon which to fall  
and be cushioned  
like many a flyer before.


	13. Planting a Few Shrubs and Growing them i

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 002 – extensive.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 7: Planting a Few Shrubs and Growing them into Bushes**

Pomona puffed under the weight of two pots of Gripple's fastest growing hedge-bushes as Hagrid, ahead of her, carried six with ease. It was quite tempting to set her load down, pull out her wand, and either levitate the two pots before her or cast a charm to make them as light as a feather, but she could well manage without the spells, and as a Herbology Mistress she knew well that certain spells didn't mix well with plants. Particularly enhanced plants like the shrubs she carried.

Hopefully like the shrubs she carried anyway, because she had never needed to create hedges eight feet tall in a matter of days before. Nor was it likely she ever would again; if she had had her way, they wouldn't even be needed, but some blundering idiots in the ministry thought it fun to put school children in danger. It simply didn't sit well with her; the plants in her greenhouse and the creatures Hagrid presented should be the worst of it.

Albus had convinced her that the tasks would be safe, and while she had a few choice words to say about the dragons, the lake-issue hadn't been that bad. The mere-people were honourable folk; they had given their word to Albus that they would not harm their hostages or severely injure the competitors, and they had kept it. The Grindylaws were a little more…excitable, but they too were bound by their word to the Headmaster.

And the maze seemed the easiest of all, moderated by a combination of teachers from all three schools and ministry personell. Devil's Snare, some spellwork, and a few of Hagrid's Blasted End Skrewets – she chuckled out loud at the thought of it attempting to eat her Devil's Snare. They would be in for a nasty surprise should they try.

'Here'll do P'mona,' Hagrid said, having already dumped his load at the marked points. 'Need anythin' else?'

'No thank you Hagrid.' She smiled at the half-giant, who showed his pleasure at the words. 'I'll be fine from here.'

And she would be, for it was just a wave of her wand to activate their charms, and the shrubs were growing merrily. Naturally, it would be easier if the shrubberies did not bother themselves with extensive cloaks to hide relatively simple magic, but how would they make a profit otherwise?

If she had had a little more warning, she could have grown them herself. Though, knowing Hogwarts, they would have had a time getting them off the pitch in time for next year's Quidditch season.


	14. The Bat that Flew Over the Quidditch Pit

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 036 – angel.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 7: The Bat that Flew Over the Quidditch Pitch**

He was black  
as he streaked  
against a red sky  
and a yellow pitch  
once dancing  
with green pixie lights.

He was black:  
blackened  
by the fumes  
fed by funeral fires  
and demons  
locked  
in a nightmare-wrought steel cage –

Unbreakable,  
unmalleable,  
untearable –

Impossible to open  
or to colour over  
with white

For a fallen angel  
never got the chance  
to rise again  
to heaven

And it was a sad thing,  
because under that black,  
it, the land far below,  
could see the angel's tears  
behind a demon mask

And then it was gone  
as the bat flew past.


	15. A Casual Business Deal After a Minor Mis

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 048 – stuck in the middle.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 8: A Casual Business Deal After a Minor Mishap**

George watched Angelina and Alicia lead Katie off the pitch. He had volunteered, as had his twin naturally, but the poisoned look their Captain had shot them was enough to immediately dissuade them from the idea. Harry was a little busy trying to console Ron, who looked so despondent that he couldn't even bring himself to tease his little brother.

With the field now vacated of half the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, spectators were swarming the pitch. All of them had seen Katie's plight, and a good bunch had seen his own little mishap with the experimental joke-shop product.

And apparently some of _those_ had misunderstood the situation.

'So Weasley, how did you make Bell's nose bleed like that?'

'Nosebleed Nougats,' Fred interjected brightly. 'Stick one end in your mouth and you're sprouting a bloody nose in no-time. Perfect excuse to get out of class, see? Then pop the other end in once you're out and voila, blood free and a period to use to your heart's content.'

A larger crowd had gathered around the pair by that point, with people eager to take any opportunity to escape a class...particularly if said class was conducted by Umbridge.

'Angelina's going to kill us,' George hissed to his twin and the other collected the name.

'Aww,' the other grinned at him. 'Afraid of your future sister in law?'

'Geeze, just because you went with her to the Yule Ball…'

But in truth, Fred was a little afraid too of Angelina's wrath…though she could hardly fault them for doing a little raking.

'You're taking the blame if she catches wind of this.' George shook his head; he was not afraid to admit that their Captain was one scary woman…and considering they were the children of Molly Weasley, that was really saying something. 'I'm not going to be anywhere near.'

'Great, use your twin brother as a shield why don't ya?'

'A brilliant idea Fred.'


	16. Frostbite

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 006 – stiffen.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 8: Frostbite**

The frost had bitten.

Under a thin sheet of invisible ice  
its once-lush blanket of green  
lay stiff

Until morning came  
with a faraway sun  
and then footholds that echoed  
with power of old  
but man of youth

And the tingling spread,  
thawing its grassy tips  
and roots  
so it could bear the path  
of other, even younger, feet  
throughout the day  
as they ran across  
from place to place  
or kicked off into the sky  
where it watched over the shadows  
left behind  
and flexed its fingers  
as it could

Until the night came again  
and the world fell asleep –  
except the frost, waiting to pounce  
once again.

Oh yes,  
the frost would bite again.


	17. A Discarding Ground for the Letters the

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 025 – love letter.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 9: A Discarding Ground for the Letters the Wind Chose Not to Carry**

It was the letter she had tossed from the Owlery.

She had tried the obvious thing, addressing it "my one true love" then trying to convince several of the school's barn owls to take it in turn. They hovered uncertainly in the air, and then came back to her. Apparently, they didn't know who or where her soulmate was and were therefore unable to deliver her letter.

So she had done the next best thing. Being a half-blood witch with a magical father and a Muggle mother, she knew customs from both worlds and one was to toss letters from a high place and let the wind carrying them to their intended recipient. There was also one about hanging letters from a tree…but the trees were either in the Forbidden Forest or prone to hitting whenever one got too close.

Unfortunately, the wind hadn't appeared to like her letter very much, as it had simply dropped it into the bleachers…and during the next Quidditch match – Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw – she found it crunching under her seat.

Luckily, her friends were all focused on the match, so she had the time to hide her embarrassment and stuff the envelope into her robes.


	18. Silent Observer

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 013 – Sunday.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 9: Silent Observer**

It was just a silent observer,  
that day of rest.

If it were a castle  
of thought,  
it would have thrown itself up  
off the ground  
to show its fury  
to those shadowed cloaks of nightmares  
for troubling his guests –

For he didn't mind cheering children,  
even if they did get over-excited at times  
because their youthful vigour  
made time pass again

But those shadowed cloaks  
with icy breath and hollow eyes  
dragged the world slowly  
to its end  
and if it could,  
it would,

But it could not, and therefore it could only  
suffer  
under the panicked feet  
that fell from above  
for its silence.


	19. Animals Really Knew How to Embarrass the

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 040 – cats.

BTW, you guys might not know this, but there's a virus transmitted by cat poo. When mice come into contact with this virus, instead of running away from cats they get sexually attracted to them (it affects a subset of cells in the brain). It was a very interesting article. :) I think they called it the suicide virus or something. Anyway, that's what the last line is on about.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 10: Animals Really Knew How to Embarrass the Inanimate**

The Quidditch Pitch may not have the extent of awareness the castle had, having been created entirely by Godric Gryffindor's hand as opposed to by all four Founders, but it was still sentient enough to be affronted by certain…activities that occurred upon it.

Flying and all repercussions of the Magical sport fine; it was what it had been created for after all. But it wasn't a litter-box for Goodness sake! Sadly though, it was unable to vocalise that sentiment, unlike Hogwarts Castle which shifted its staircases as it suited her, and therefore nothing could be done to dissuade the litter of cats who decided to use it as such.

Though it could not deny it enjoyed the magical scrubbing. Not that it would admit it; it was too demeaning to think that cat poo led to something pleasurable. Though it had no brain for its brain-cells to become intoxicated by that smell…


	20. Free Ground to Grow Upon

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 035 – locks.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 10: Free Ground to Grow Upon**

It had no cage,  
no walls,  
no locks  
to be confined  
behind

And so it could grow  
and dance merrily  
at every breeze's whim  
and watch a vast sky  
overhead  
and little flyers  
flittering  
like butterflies  
and stretch out its limbs

Farther than the eye  
could see

Blissfully ignorant  
of its own limits.


	21. Boys Sometimes Fight Over the Silliest T

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 043 – overrated.

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**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 11: Boys Sometimes Fight Over the Silliest Things**

Godric was one of the greatest Wizards of his time, but when he was squabbling with his long time rival, it hardly seemed that way. Salazar, naturally, was no better, being said rival Godric was arguing with.

It took two to make a quarrel after all.

'The idea of a dungeon is ridiculous. Who wants to freeze their butts off for no good reason.'

'Hmmph. Who wants to fly around like a fool and give the Matron extra work?'

'Boys,' Helga sighed, ever the peace-maker but still undeniably fed up with the pair. 'There's no reason why we can't have –'

They either didn't hear her or ignored her.

'Dungeons in castles is so overrated. I want something different.'

'Like a Quidditch pitch won't look completely ridiculous with Rowena's designs –'

Helga looked at said woman, who didn't look too pleased to have her name dragged into the argument.

'What do you mean? The pitch is perfect for a school –'

'Yeah, if you want to raise hooligans –'

'That's enough,' Rowena finally snapped, sparks flying from the tip of her wand. The two boys immediately shut up and looked at her. 'We can have both the pitch and the dungeons. If we have the pitch at the back of the castle it won't look odd with the hallway designs, and there's plenty of room for the dungeons where Salazar picked out his quarters. But one more word from either of you and I'll be turning the dungeons into a library and giving Helga the pitch for her greenhouses.'

Godric went green at the thought of his precious playing pitch covered with who knew what sorts of plants. Salazar also went pale at the thought of parchments and warm fires clouding his cold dungeon idea.

'Yes ma'am,' they mumbled meekly.

Naturally, they were fighting again not a day later, this time about the nature of students to be put under their tutelage.


	22. So the Pitch isn't as Sight-Worthy as th

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 039 – vibrant.

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 11: So The Pitch isn't as Sight-Worthy as the Sky, So Sue It**

It was not as vibrant as the sky  
who shown seven colours by the day  
but there was a subtlety within –  
one it chose to share with few  
and the appreciable

Who could tell the difference between  
summer's harsh rays and spring's  
dear song, or winter's frost  
and autumn's sigh of sadness  
as the snow came forth

And who didn't see said snow  
as a canvas, but rather  
a lid that covered all  
so the pitch so carefully crafted  
was nothing but a blank slate  
in the empty air  
and those that dug about  
never unearthed the pale  
pink that tickled underneath.


	23. Quidditch Through the Ages was a Good Bo

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 041 – book.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 12: Quidditch Through the Ages was a Good Book for the Quidditch Pitch**

Quidditch Through the Ages wasn't a book she'd normally pick, but somehow it seemed like a good accessory to carry with her to the Quidditch Pitch. It was empty, which was a relief, though with no Inter-House tournament that year there wasn't much cause for the teams to practise. Some, like Gryffindor, were missing a captain and therefore unable to appeal to their Head of House for team practise…although after Harry and Cedric started getting along better, the latter allowed the remains of the Gryffindor team to play scrimmage with the Hufflepuffs in their booking session.

Though Hermione was sure Professor McGonagall could make an allowance, considering it was she who had not selected a new captain due to the Triwizard Tournament…but when Harry was participating in this scrimmages with herself and Ron looking on, she would sometimes find the stern Head of Gryffindor watching with a smile upon her lips, and she knew the woman had planned this. Occasionally, even the Ravenclaws could be convinced to join – and they were a worthy enough adversary for Slytherin to scrimmage against as well, although the team of green and gold would not be caught dead with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs…and even Vicktor Crum was spotted doing the Wronski Feint at times, although their pitch could hardly match international standards.

Naturally, they practised on their own as well, but there was no-one on the pitch that afternoon. And she was glad, as she didn't want to explain to anyone, least of all her two best friends – both complete idiots and looking past their noses for impossible dates to the Yule Ball – why she was sitting in the empty bleachers with the one book she hadn't memorised from cover to cover in her lap.

Actually, she thought in retrospect, she wouldn't mind Harry that much. Even if he was as unbelievably dense as Ron was, he wasn't exactly a part of her…little problem.

Maybe she had to rethink the advice she gave to Ginny then…


	24. A Romantic Setting and it was the Platfo

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 024 – dusk.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 12: A Romantic Setting and it was the Platform**

There was a twinkling sky overhead –  
glitters from stars far off  
as the background faded into grey

And gentle sighs  
as the warm weight halo  
spread and combated  
the late night cold

In the large  
but empty  
open space

And the pitch too snuggled  
as upon it, the humans did too.  
They all watched the sky  
from the comfort

Until the sun-drops fell.


	25. A Christmas Tree Makes for a Good Target

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 019 – December.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 13: A Christmas Tree Makes for a Good Target**

Somehow, it was odd, and intoxicant inviting, to see a Christmas tree lying on the middle of the Quidditch Pitch.

It probably wasn't intentional, but Sirius was tempted to grab his broom and beater bat and see how many Bludgers he could whack at the boroughs before the groundskeeper caught him. It would be well worth the detention, probably scrubbing the infirmary pans or writing lines or one of the more disturbing punishments that were the causes of several outrages in Hogwart's Muggle Population.

It was tempting, particularly as James was watching him with an equally eager grin.

'Up for it Pads?'

'Need I remind you who the resident Beater is?'

James, chuckling, tossed him the keys. 'Go fetch then pup.'

'Hmmph, just because you're the Captain this year…'

'Well, what can I say? I'm just that good-looking.'

'Then why haven't you got Evans yet?'

James' mood quickly plummeted. 'I'm working on that,' he said. He was soon brought around by the wild Bludgers though, hit happily by Sirius as he whacked a little more haphazardly at the black balls (being a Chaser, he didn't have a whole lot of experience at hitting). And, when an angry McGonagall caught them and dragged them into her office, they had to admit the essays they were assigned were well worth it.

Their one-match ban on the other hand was not, but at least it was against Hufflepuff.


	26. The Parent Cries, so the Child Cries Too

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 037 –connection.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 13: The Parent Cries, so the Child Cries Too**

Hogwarts was the parent  
castle, and she was sad

So the genderless child  
was sad as well,

Spoilt for happiness,  
for carefree laughs  
that danced on the breeze  
with the wind-borne nymphs

Or overflowing tears of joy  
and hugs spread all round  
or chaste kisses shared  
under the blanket of sweet  
darkness abound

But instead,  
its grass was brown and dry  
from lack of nutrients  
for there was only blood  
– pain, and fear –  
to feed its roots

And as the Castle diminished,  
her magic that sustained  
the large Quidditch Pitch  
diminished too.


	27. Sneaking About to Listen

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 023 – broadcast.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 14: Sneaking About to Listen**

The Quidditch Pitch was a surprisingly good place to listen to the radio that year. After all, they couldn't condone or speak against anything else that happened there.

It wouldn't normally have been; they would have been too busy cheering on their House team, whether that be Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, to even think of doing an unrelated activity. In fact, Ginny would be on the team herself, playing in the Chaser position – or Seeker when need be – but Quidditch had that year changed from an enjoyable sport to a bullying ground for the Slytherins.

She couldn't risk playing; she would more likely hex the other team. Or get hexed. Some of the less…problematic Gryffindors had taken the team, purebloods who were largely on the neutral side of the fence.

In the meantime, she sat with Neville and Luna and a few others, crowded around the old radio her father had found and fixed up for them, tuning into her brothers' broadcasts.

It was the only way to know the truth, and between _Muffilato_ and the regular hubhub of the Quidditch Pitch, no-one else had to know.


	28. It Didn't Mind a Good Prank

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 014 – that would be enough.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 14: It Didn't Mind a Good Prank**

It didn't mind a good prank.

In fact,  
it couldn't find itself  
minding in the least

When the green blanket of lush  
was suddenly pink and purple  
and a bright blue

For who wouldn't want  
to be different  
for a day

Although the counter-spell  
did make it sneeze,  
so the pollen in the air  
was a little pain  
for the flyers overhead

But it was all in good sport,  
though it wasn't sure it could tolerate it  
any more.


	29. Cousins and the Family Name of Black

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 007 – jaw.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 15: Cousins and the Family Name of Black**

Bellitrax set her jaw. Seated with the other Slytherins, she had a front row seat to the Gryffindor stands…and her _dear_ cousin.

It was disgusting, watching him laugh with his wayward friends. He was _proud_ to be in that wretched House, proud to wear their colours and carry the bat of his team. Proud to shoot Bludgers against his own family, dear poor Regulus who sat beside her, looking elsewhere. Proud to have brought shame upon his noble family and the name he carried.

Rabastan caught her looking. 'Despicable, isn't it?' he said softly.

'Yes,' she agreed, low enough for Regulus not to catch. 'It is.' She shot a dark glare towards the foursome – not that they were paying any attention to her. Pureblood Potter, whose family was a sully on the pureblood status as much as the Weasleys were. How her shamed ancestor Dorea Black had married into that family was beyond her…but there was a reason she had been removed from their family tree. At least the name would never carry that shame.

Sirius on the other hand…

And then there was the halfblood Lupin, and worse, the muggble-born Pettigrew for whom she could come up with dazzling names that would put even her fellow Slytherins to shame.

'They'll get theres,' Rabastan murmured in her ear.

She leaned a little closer to him. 'They will,' she agreed. 'And I'll be happy to see it.'


	30. An Odd but Good Place to Hide Something

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 010 – stuck in a rut.

Naturally, the dirt near Hagrid's cabin poses a problem because it's dug up so frequently. If you're taking it literally.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 15: An Odd but Good Place to Hide Something**

The soil was moist  
and so he carefully dug  
with mittens.

He was a wizard,  
but not one so skilled  
that the perfect hole would form  
with the wave of a wand

And there was no-where better  
to hide a thing by hand  
than the magic pitch  
where grass grew back  
the moment it was pulled out

And even the sharp-eyed  
Seekers from the air  
would not be able to tell  
the disturbance in the land

And his secret will stay  
safely buried  
within the soil

Out of sight.  
out of mind

…and then maybe he could  
forget about it  
now that it was there  
and he was gone.


	31. A Lack of Subtle Romance

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 008 – engagement.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 16: A Lack of Subtle Romance**

'Why Hogwarts?' Ginny asked curiously, kicking off on her brand new Firebolt, issued after her contract with the Holyhead Harpies had been finalised.

'Why not?' Harry asked, following on his own Firebolt, brought from the contents of his own vault when he found himself unable to keep from the air. And he couldn't deny it came in handy in Auror business, shrunk and kept with his wand and Invisibility Cloak.

At Ginny's look, he amended: 'well, nostalgia really.'

'Yeah.' She flew a little higher and her boyfriend followed. 'It has been a long time since we've been here.'

'Me longer than you,' Harry pointed out. 'You've got two years on me.'

'Because you decided to go straight into the Auror business.' When Harry sped up, the red-haired girl did as well. 'But seriously, why are we here? You're avoiding the topic Harry.'

They looped around the pitch before Harry answered. 'Well…I want to ask you to marry me.' The last bit came out fast, sounding even more rushed when both of them braked and stopped mid-air.

'Marry me?' Ginny repeated blankly, sorting out the words in her mind, before grinning. 'Of course I'll marry you, you idiot!'

She didn't know whether to hex him for worrying her or turn into mush from the romantic nature of it all…or what she called Harry-romance anyway. He had kissed her for the first time in front of the entire Gryffindor House after all, so she supposed it was a good thing the Quidditch Pitch was empty except for the pair of them.


	32. A One-Pitch Song

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 032 –guitar.

And excuse the pun.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 16: A One-Pitch Song**

The wind drummed its song  
on sky's strong strings  
where few could hear.

It was one of the  
lucky ones,  
who enjoyed the sweet  
patter-pit-pat of rain–  
drops upon  
its grassy shoots,

Who stayed up late  
at night  
listening to sweet melodies  
that danced  
upon the breeze

And who heard the warning-bells  
and shut its ears  
when the angry screeches sounded  
or when the whistle – sharp and  
unnatural – burst  
through; the

Never-ending song  
never faltered

Nor did its constant audience  
for even the castle shut its ears  
for a night.

Uprooting a pitch  
was no easy task  
after all.


	33. Give Him any Muggle Sport, but Quidditch

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 001 – convoluted.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 17: Give Him any Muggle Sport, but Quidditch was Lost to Him**

It might as well have been a different language.

Football he understood. Soccer was a ball in the park…quite literally. He even got baseball, with a little difficulty.

Quidditch? No sir.

The pitch was cool enough, and if he could scrimmage up a team he was sure they could play football as well. But catching balls while on brooms and getting whacked by them, all to catch some tiny little ball which almost always decided the game?

Really, it completely wasted the efforts of the goal scores…called Chasers of all things. Chasing after the ball, like a dog chasing its tail. Expect the dog just never catches it; the Chasers do, but normally it's a waster. And Keeper? Who's keeping the ball; they just whack it back out to the field. And Beaters? Actually enjoy injuring the other team? Talk about sadistic. And Seeker. Looking for a Snitch.

They should have called that position _Spy_er, since that's what it was.

And where exactly was the point of the other players?

How the Wizarding World managed with this crazy sport as their only option, he had no idea.

Come on, they didn't even have red cards for rule breaking!


	34. Pitch of Aspirations

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 026 –delusional.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 17: Pitch of Aspirations**

It had an ear  
but no mouth to speak  
and that was good.

No-one wanted to be told  
they were reaching a sky  
that couldn't be touched.

It was a ground where one  
could try  
by broom, or by whispers  
to the air.

It was the sky  
whose role was to bring  
them back to earth.

It was the one who pushed  
them further up.


	35. A Grim on the Quidditch Pitch

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 005 – monster.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 18: A Grim on the Quidditch Pitch**

If anyone saw a Grim look-alike curled under the Gryffindor bleachers, they'd probably run screaming bloody murder. Not that he could blame them; Grims weren't exactly known for their well-wishes, and if they saw his _real_ face they'd pretty much do the same thing.

Thirteen years in Azkaban weren't exactly kind to him.

But the fresh air and the Quidditch pitch and the general cheers from the Gryffindor crowd as they cheered for their team were like a healing balm. It was like he'd gone back in time, when James was Chaser and he was on the reserves – for of course he was out there _flying_ once the Beater position became vacant – and the rest of them would be screaming their lungs out in support for them.

After Azkaban, it was practically the dew of honey.

But he hadn't come for rehabilitation; he wasn't a free man, and after what he'd done, he wasn't sure if he even deserved it. Truthfully, the monster he was didn't deserve the respite he was granting himself, but he couldn't be this close to his Godson and not see the flyer in his blood.

And the speck of red and gold in poor vision was a glimmer of hope.


	36. Waiting for the Snitch to Show Itself

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 029 – overview.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 18: Waiting for the Snitch to Show Itself**

The pitch looked so small  
from the air.

Broom straight,  
hovering…

Waiting

For the Snitch  
to catch the sun's rays  
in that inescapable guilt

So like the predator,  
he, the Seeker, could swoop  
upon it

And where better to wait  
but from a place high  
and steady  
where the entire playing field  
was in his sight.


	37. It was More the Idea of Her

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 012 – platonic.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 19: It was More the Idea of Her**

'I'm sorry Sev.'

Lily's red hair was beautiful, catching the afternoon light reflecting off the Quidditch hoops. For Severus, it might be the last time he saw her like this.

He was wringing his hands anxiously. 'Please,' he burst. 'Isn't there anything I can do?'

Lily thought for a moment, before shaking her head. 'If you did do the thing that would let me accept you again, then you will have done it for the wrong reasons.'

Cryptic, but wise: that was Lily Evans in a nutshell and he had ruined everything he had with her.

She sighed.

Severus looked down. 'I –' He hesitated. 'I don't want to lose you.'

Lily looked at him. 'Avery,' she said slowly. 'Mulciber. Malfoy. Lestrange. These are the people you call your friends now, and you know I can't condone them.'

'I'll stay away from them,' Severus said desperately. 'I – I'll forget about them.'

But Lily was shaking her head again. 'You can't. Not like this.' She paused, then turned. 'I better go now.'

'No, wait.' But there was nothing he could to keep his first friend. 'I loved you.'

Lily froze for a moment, her shoes sinking lightly into the damp grass of the Quidditch pitch. Then, without turning back, she shook her head for the time.

'I think…' she said slowly, 'it was more what I represented…'

He wanted to scream that she was wrong, _wrong_, but then she was gone, taking the light of the sun with her as well.


	38. A Football - Excuse Me, Quidditch Pitch

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 009 – throat.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 19: A Football – Excuse Me, Quidditch Pitch**

It was almost insulting,  
being seen playing football upon –

It was a magical pitch  
after all.

Snowball fights  
it could manage,  
particularly when they flew  
with a flicked wand

But football?  
There was nothing magical  
in the least.

Except for the students  
that played it…

And it existed for the students  
after all.

It still felt like something  
was stuck in it throat  
as it accepted it.


	39. The Long Awaited Quidditch Cup

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 021 – all that I've waited for.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 20: The Long Awaited Quidditch Cup**

He could have kissed the ground.

The Quidditch Cup, after four long years as Captain, was finally in his hands. His greatest dreams, the very peak of his –

Okay, he _might_ have been exaggerating a little, but it was a major hurdle to overcome. Gryffindor hadn't won a championship since the days of Charlie Weasley…but when Harry Potter had literally been handed to him on a silver platter, Oliver Wood was sure the Cup had his name on it that year.

But certain…circumstances that landed his Seeker in the hospital wing for the final match caused Ravenclaw to steam-roll over them.

And then the next year, where victory was right within their grasp until the Heir to Slytherin struck one time too many.

And when, the following year, the Dementors had knocked their Seeker out of the hair, Oliver thought that was it. His dreams had gone up in smoke.

The rest of the team talked some sense into him, and between the seven of them they managed to make up the difference in points and take the Cup.

And he would have kissed the ground…but the whole school was watching him. It was enough to clasp the male members of his team on the back and kiss the female ones on the cheek. And it was enough to hold the coveted Quidditch Cup in his hands.

Actually, that all was too much, because he could feel tears rolling down his face.


	40. In that Final Year

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 034 – cast iron.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 20: In that Final Year**

It was reaching its limits.

Not even the magic of the founders  
was limitless.

Hogwarts was crumbling;  
the pitch too would soon  
start to wilt

And soon, both  
would be beyond repair.

Tainted,  
with dark magic.

Even if was rescued now  
it wouldn't be the same.

The wounds would heal in time  
but the foundation  
will have changed,

Shifted

To a new Hogwarts.


	41. A Little Pranking Between Founders

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 033 – hue.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 21: A Little Pranking Between Founders**

Rowena carefully scrutinised the pitch.

It reeked of Godric's outlandishness. 'Seriously,' she snorted to Helga, who had been kind enough to accompany her. 'Glittering hoops? Has he forgotten their use?'

'Maybe he was caught up in the glamour of it all,' Helga suggested, hiding a smile. Sometimes, Godric really did act like a child.

Rowena just grumbled something before waving her wand, reverting them back into some semblance of normalcy. 'They'll blind any Quidditch player before the Snitch pokes their eyes out.'

'I would think you'd be more concerned about the stands.'

'Huh?' It wasn't often that Helga picked something up before Rowena, and it caused the brunette to look towards the stands in question…then howl in anger.

'That – that – ' Her mouth moved, but her brain could not seem to come up with a good enough insult for the man in question.

Godric had painted the bleachers a rainbow of red, gold, blue and silver. His favourite colours and hers. They melted perfectly at times to give off a purple hue that reflected onto the grassy pitch. And now that Helga had pointed it out, Rowena couldn't believe she had missed it.

Helga, in the meantime, was giggling. 'Looks like someone was pulling a prank on you.' She shrugged. 'Well, you did tell him you'd survey the place, so I suppose you did set him up…'

Rowena waved her wand, frowning when the colours didn't immediately change. 'It appears so,' she said with a frown. 'However this someone had severely underestimated my capacity of coming back with a far better joke.'

And Godric wasn't too thrilled to find his hair and beard had gone silver instead of their usual red. He was even less amused to find he would have to wait for the red to grow back out, because Rowena's spell was irreversible.


	42. An Outcast Looking for a Chance to Go wi

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 030 – mingle.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 21: An Outcast Looking for a Chance to Go with the Crowd**

In the empty times  
it could place each footstep  
that left its mark

But in the floods,  
wherein its hair was trampled  
to a mud mat in the rain  
and a bale of straw in summer's sun,  
they overlapped, strings upon strings,

So that even a cat's ball of yarn  
looked like a neatly woven blanket  
in comparison

And a shadow could easily pass  
through the crowds  
unnoticed,  
mingling with  
the solid bodies.


	43. He Had to Say Goodbye to Her Because it

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 049 – things will get better.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 22: He Had to Say Goodbye to Her Because it was Too Late**

Severus allowed a single tear to slide down his nose. Lily had long since left the pitch, and he knew she would not turn back. She was headstrong that way, and while it was that which now held them at arms length, he would not change that about her.

Not for the world.

Because he had gone too far, and she could not forget. Forgive? Yes, and she said it twice. He had hurt her, but she wasn't mad. Not anymore. But things could never return back either.

They had gone too far apart.

He wished – oh, he so dearly wished – it to be anything but, but the truth was hard, and cold. Even if he had kept his tongue about him, his hatred had pushed her away.

His love though, his love for her, was killing him.

Maybe it would get better; when he left the pitch and returned, the boys said as much. They laughed it down, perhaps more so because of who Lily was: a Mudblood. But to him…

Maybe, things would get better in time. Because he really was dying of a broken heart at that moment.


	44. Getting a Little Too Excited in the Mids

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 047 – Rock'n'roll.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 22: Getting a Little Too Excited in the Midst of Things**

The silence was staggering  
when its antagonist  
was the roar of the crowd

When blood pumped  
to its heights,  
fed with nothing  
save the savoury air

And rhythmless,  
beatless  
yet with beat nonetheless

And it felt young again.

The silence that came after  
was more than enough  
to soothe its then  
aching roots.


	45. She Wasn't Going to Get a Sunburn Becaus

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 046 – lotion.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 23: She wasn't Going to Get a Sunburn Because of a Boy**

Lavender winced.

She wished her skin wasn't so sensitive, but sadly it was and there was simply no denying it. The squirt of lotion on her hands felt so much better, and she took her attention off the match enough to lather it on the reddening parts of her body.

The tryouts were always the worst; the sun was barely coming out of summer and the heat that came from crowds was hardly helping. There were more people than usual that year too; last year's tryouts – when Oliver Wood had graduated and the Gryffindor Team needed a new keeper – weren't nearly as bad. She'd been there then too.

It was because Harry Potter was no captain. That was what brought the extra crowd.

But she didn't care about him; she was looking at someone else. Someone that stood behind him, but in the shadows save for those like her who chose to shine their lights on him. It was clichéd, but she didn't really care. It beat falling for the hero anyway, and really, if she was getting attracted to someone, there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it. Her body and heart were the shoppers, not her brain after all.

But even coming out to watch his tryout wasn't worth the sunburn. It would spread, itching and burning and scratching all over. So she had her lotion: not the Muggle sort, but the vastly improved Witches brand.

After all, she didn't need sunburn to appreciate Ron Weasley.


	46. She was Just too Shy to Try and Reach Hi

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 011 – fanatic.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 23: She was Just too Shy to Try and Reach Him Alone**

She lost courage  
in the great expanse  
when the air clung tightly  
to her robes and the silence  
sung loudly  
to her ear

But when the crowds swarmed,  
it was impossible to curb the tide  
save to swim along with it

Over bleachers, across grassy  
pitches, but unable to reach  
_him_, always surrounded  
by fanatic fans  
and truer friends

If only she was the latter,  
instead of the former,

Then maybe she could cut through the crowd

Or maybe,  
she wouldn't need its cloak  
hiding her approach.


	47. The Celebrations Begin at Last

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 050 – vintage.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 24: The Celebrations Begin at Last**

They were splitting Butterbeer corks.

It was a week late in coming, but somehow the celebrations didn't feel right until the dead were all farewelled.

But that day, everyone had collected. Every person who had participated in the Battle at Hogwarts was present, along with quite a few who had not. Hestia had even managed to convince the Dursleys to attend the event…although they hadn't really protested all that much.

Harry was shocked, but managed to hide it well.

There were many a tearstain to be found. After all, a lot of the deaths were still fresh. Andromeda Tonks carried little baby Teddy, the latter of who wailed every time a loud noise went off (mostly in memory of Fred Weasley's famous firecrackers) and the former whose eyes moisted at each couple that had survived. Lavender Brown was leaning carefully on Seamus Finnegan, while Dean hung a little awkwardly about them. Bill Weasley was with them as well, pointing to the scars he himself had received from Greyback, and Lavender was nodding with a serious expression on her face.

Even Aberforth had arrived, with wine finer than he had ever served at his wand-tip. 'The best there is,' he roared, offering them to all. 'All on the House friends.'

Harry took a bottle, and Ginny gave him a red-rimmed glare. He offered the cracked lid to her.

'A glass?' Ginny asked.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. 'This might be vintage wine,' he said, 'but I think Aberforth's glasses are still the same.'

And seeing the dust caking them, Ginny couldn't help but agree.


	48. What Good is a Victory when Death is the

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 004 – glisten.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 24: What Good is a Victory when Death is the Price**

His eyes glisten with unshed tears  
as he hung  
above his son's dead form.

The pitch was silent.

There was no sonnet  
of celebration, of victory  
being sung.

So what if he had won?  
What did prizes, or glory  
matter to those below  
the ground.

He could only be grateful  
that he could see that face  
one last time,  
and without a trace of pain.

He should scream.  
he should ask  
Why his son is gone  
while another came back

But it was too new,  
too numb,  
and he could only start to cry

And cry  
uncontrolled.


	49. The Quidditch Pitch had Always Been a Pl

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 045 – frivolous.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Drabble 25: The Quidditch Pitch had Always Been a Place of Play**

They were throwing snowballs at each other.

It was the perfect opportunity. Snow had covered the entire pitch, making a game of Quidditch impossible – unless they could avoid getting snow-blind. Which they couldn't; their spellwork wasn't that great yet.

So a snowball fight, with enchanted snowballs of course, was the next best thing. In the spirit of Christmas, the winter holidays, and a chance to stretch out and enjoy the break from school.

And any book that found its way there was soon soaked. After all, who could study on the Quidditch Pitch? Regardless whether a game was going on or not, it was a place to have fun.

Apparently, a certain brother of theirs didn't seem to understand that though.

'I think we may have to go to drastic measures,' Fred said.

'I agree,' replied George.

They both looked over at Percy.

'Hey, Perce!'

He looked up, before getting barrelled by a sheet of snow.

'Dammit you two! I'm trying to study over here.'

'Tut tut tut.' The twins wagged their fingers simultaneously. 'The playground is no place to bring a book.'

And George levitated Percy's entire bag, coaxing it into the Gryffindor Tower while Fred took care of the distraction. Namely, the snowballs.


	50. And the End of the War has Finally Come

**A/N: **Written for the Setting Boot Camp for setting: the Quidditch Pitch and prompt: 038 – precious.

* * *

**The Quidditch Pitch  
Poem 25: And the End of the War has Finally Come**

The hall would have taken them all  
if it hadn't been converted  
to a crypt, with bodies lined  
neatly across the House tables

So the living, the victorious, collected  
in the only other place they could:  
the pitch large enough to support them all  
even when littered with debris  
and fresh stains of blood.

It was not to watch a match  
but rather, to mark the end of one

And one of the largest  
of them all  
save the warm hands of Death  
had finally come to an end

Marked by a phoenix  
in the centre-ground  
rising  
fro the ashes.


End file.
